Tenerife Sea
by Mrs.PercyJackson3
Summary: AU: Annabeth's best friend is always proposing to her. She never thought he was serious. One-shot. Complete.


~ * Tenerife Sea ~ *

* * *

"Marry me."

Annabeth rolls her eyes, her coffee (large, double cream, double sugar) balanced carefully between her three notebooks and six-hundred-page textbook, her portfolio tucked somewhere in-between. She manages to free a hand enough to set the can of RedBull down in front of the man currently staring adoringly up at her, the marriage proposal rolling off his lips with a blessed sigh.

"Shut up Seaweed Brain," she snorts, careful to set her own caffeinated beverage down before sorting out the rest of her load.

Percy Jackson, aka Seaweed Brain, proves himself to be as helpful as ever by utterly ignoring her predicament and pulling the can of sugary caffeinated death closer, closing his eyes and groaning obscenely. Annabeth rolls her eyes again, so hard it almost hurt, as she sits across from the ridiculous man.

"A thank you would be nice."

"I voiced my adoration and appreciation by promising to pledge myself to you for all eternity," Percy objects, cracking the can open and tossing it back so his face is obscured by the ridiculous red bull logo.

"Just what every girl wants to hear," Annabeth deadpans.

He sets the can down to give her a winning grin, the right corner higher than the left and his teeth uneven. His front teeth are blue. Annabeth holds a hand out. Percy pouts.

"I bought you that ungodly expensive death elixir, Perseus, you can spare me one—"

A blue airhead is in her hand before she even finishes.

"Thank you."

"Anything for my future wife."

Annabeth snorts again, but settles in across from the ridiculous man she calls her best friend. It's hard to believe she met Percy almost nine years ago, crossed eyed and failing Bio 101 even with his colored coded highlighters in various shades of blue. Percy declares it was love at first sight. Annabeth tells people he was so tragic she couldn't help feeling sorry for him, especially when she found out the idiot was _majoring_ in Bio. They graduated and Annabeth got a full ride to Berkeley for her Master's and it turned out the idiot majored in Bio to get into California State's marine biology program; Annabeth could drive the forty-five minute route that separated their two campuses with her eyes closed by the time they both held Master's degrees in their hands.

Percy tapped out at his Master's, shaking his head and venomously refusing to go on but he still curled up in the corner of their favorite café every Tuesday and Thursday night to cheer Annabeth on in her pursuit of a Ph.D. Saturday pizza nights are a little odd these days since every other weekend Percy is crammed into her tiny university apartment with her two roommates and frat parties across the hall; the others she all but disappears into the off gray couch he drove three hours to buy from a sketchy couple with no front door. It's odd, but they make it work. He's a pain but he's also the best friend she's ever had, absurd and ridiculous marriage proposals aside.

"How was work?" She asks as organizes herself, shuffling papers around and flicking to page three hundred and ninety-four of her textbook as she takes a sip of coffee.

"Eh," Percy dismisses and she barely catches the hitch of his shoulders and he reaches forward to snatch up one of her pens. He twirls it between his fingers, an agitated tick he never outgrew.

"That bad?"

"Nah, it was fine," Percy denies even though they both know it's untrue. "Feed some fish, adjusted tank temps. Got to hold down one of the river otters while the vet gave it its shots, that was . . . pretty cool."

He clears his throat, the pen twirling at near lift-off velocity. Now that she's looking, she sees three thin red lines along the bottom of his jaw.

"Mopped up kid vomit," Percy adds and the pen twirls faster despite his deceptively carefree tone. "Worked the gift shop for a few hours."

"That's bullshit," Annabeth interjects, furious on his behalf. "You're not a damn custodian you have a Master's in—"

"They don't care." Percy shrugs and Annabeth doesn't have time to object before the pen is in his mouth.

"Perseus—germs, do you have any idea where that's—" She knows it's a lost cause and he predictably ignores her, eyes distant as he chews on the end of her pen. She decides to pick her battles and only hopes it doesn't explode on him this time.

"I mean at least it's in my field right? It's an aquarium." His voice is dull, slightly muffled by the pen between his teeth.

He sighs, head lobbing to the side. He leans back in his chair so the legs front legs lift off the ground—Annabeth's eye twitches. He knows she hates that and he winks.

"Jerk. I hope you fall." He grins around her pen. "We'll keep looking. You might be a Seaweed Brain, but you _know_ the ocean."

"If only I could put that on a resume," Percy muses. "Sure I only have a Master's but man do I know the ocean."

"You knew it better than Professor Baacum," Annabeth defends, puffing her chest out like a proud mama hen. The moment Percy slammed his oceanographer professor his final year in the program is still one of her favorite memories.

"Anyway, enough about little ol' me, how was school? Show me your new designs."

The chair legs hit the floor with a bang Annabeth wishes she could say it startles her but the sound is so Percy-esque that it washes right over her. She flips her portfolio towards the man and he riffles through it, eyes flittering until they find the new ones.

"Ooh! I like it!"

"You like all of them," Annabeth reminds him but she can't help smiling. She purposefully turns her head towards her book and pretends not to see Percy reach out and trace the all glass structure she spent the last three days sketching.

"Would this go somewhere like back home in New York?"

"I was thinking more like a viewing tower for McLaughlin Park."

Percy nods, still nibbling on her pen as he traces the viewing deck. "Will have a great view of the tide."

Annabeth's lips twitch. "Yeah, you complained about it the whole day last time we were there." She makes a note in her book. "Besides, it won't ever actually be built."

"Who knows?"

"I know."

Percy hums but lets the subject drop. Annabeth reads while Percy flips through her portfolio. He doesn't interrupt her. An hour passes and the portfolio is tucked under her notebooks. Percy puts his head on the table, eyes green little slits as they watch her turn the pages. He offers the pen up as she drags a notebook towards her. Annabeth gives him a _look_ and he gets up with a great sigh, like her staunch refusal to use utensils that have been in his mouth offends him. He snags her empty coffee cup as he stands, disappearing to the front of the store.

When he returns the pen smells like cheap lavender scented soap and her coffee has been refilled.

He pulls headphones out, pops one in his ear and settles back in.

"You're looking for a new job and not playing Angry Birds right?" Annabeth asks, knowing the answer from the way his thumbs deftly swipe across the screen. He sticks his tongue out at her, ever mature.

"You'll help me look on Saturday," he says with confidence as he tilts the phone to the side, tongue sticking out a hint. "And I have green pigs to topple."

"Uh-huh."

He's right and she only hates him a little for it. He looks up from his game long enough to send a wink her way and they both return to their tasks.

* * *

If allowed, Percy could eat an entire large pizza to himself. The little store one block from his apartment sold medium one toppings for seven dollars and Annabeth doesn't feel a shred of guilt as she pulls his apartment key from her pocket with one in hand. She's a starving student, he can deal.

"I didn't buy any beer so you better have some," is her greeting as she walks into his dark apartment.

She flicks on a light with the edge of the pizza box, deftly balancing on one leg to kick one shoe off, then the next.

"Perce, wake up," she calls.

His apartment is small. Not as small his old New York apartment, he always joked, like it was difficult feat to beat. It wasn't. The shady couch is dead ahead, barely able to fit squished between two walls. Across from it is a beat up box TV and three feet from that starts the kitchen. She sets the pizza on the table, the box almost as large as the table itself, and walks to the only room the apartment can boast.

"Hey, Seaweed Brain," she calls again, knocking.

The door swings open underneath her knuckles to reveal an empty room. She sighs at the hazardous piles of clothes scattered across the ground, stepping over them to peer at the bed, just in case. The unmade bed is void of any green eyed idiots so she retreats to the relative safety of the kitchen. Relative, because there are dishes in the sink she is pretty sure were there two weeks ago when she visited. There is beer in the fridge and she helps herself. Balancing the pizza box on her knee, she settles in on Percy's couch. It threatens to eat her like always, enveloping around her like the Blob's gross fabric cousin but it smells like salt and the cheap shampoo Percy buys.

She eats half the box before she's full, draining one beer and contemplating another as she runs her thumb over the screen of her phone. As if sensing her unasked question, it buzzes.

 _working late, sorry. beer in fridge_

The words are followed by a string of emojis: a dolphin, a frown, peace sign, three knives and a beer. She shakes her head and doesn't bother to try and decipher his nonsense but stands to grab another beer. If he insists. She has just decided to start grading papers (the joy of tutelage beneath an accredited professor—doing their busy work) when her phone buzzes again.

 _gonna be real late. don't wait up._

Annabeth frowns, running her finger over the words. _Assholes_ , she thinks with a frown. They shove all their menial tasks off on him, hold him over late and treat him like garbage. All because why? Because he has a Master's degree while they tote around stupid shiny doctorates. If she grades the papers harshly, she will never admit it's because her mind isn't really on introductory architecture but the aquarium halfway across town and the biologists she dreams of strangling.

She is half asleep and three-fourths through the papers when Percy pads in.

"Umph, dammit did I leave the lights on, oh shit shoes, ah—oh, you're still here."

"Hm," Annabeth confirms, eyes cracking open to find her best idiot stumbling across the floor. She gestures with a B plus paper at the box of pizza. "Food. Cold. Only pepperoni."

"Great I'm starved," he groans and Annabeth can't help screwing up her nose as he gets closer.

"Shower first," she demands, pointing. "You smell like fish."

He makes a face at her, snagging a slice of pizza. "'S my apartment," he grumbles through a mouthful.

"And don't you dare leave those smelly clothes laying around, straight to the machine," she tells him, gathering up the papers.

Percy grunts in way of response but disappears into the bathroom. The shower starts a moment later. Annabeth finishes packing the papers away, vowing to finish them tomorrow over coffee. She leans back into the couch, her eyes drifting shut again. The apartment is pleasantly warm, the sound of the shower running a soothing backdrop. She nestles her face into the fabric, breathing deeply. She must have dozed because when Percy picks her legs up, it jerks her out of the pleasant nothingness. She groans, cracking an eye open to glare at him. Percy doesn't look the slightest bit repentant as he plops down, letting her legs fall on his lap. Annabeth digs her heels into the couch on the other side of Percy, effectively trapping him in. Percy drags the pizza box towards him, warm hand curling around her ankle so as to not knock her legs off the couch. He settles back, two slices in hand. Stacking one on top of the other, he takes a giant bite.

"What'd they hold you for?" Annabeth mutters, crossing her arms and attempting to rouse herself back into awareness. A herculean task; the heat of the room combined with the near overpowering smell of Percy's off brand soap, doubled now that the man himself is fresh from the shower and more soap than fish, threatens to drag her back into a peaceful slumber.

"Stuff," is his helpful answer.

She digs her heel into his side and he curses.

"Okay, okay, ease up before I spill pizza all over you." There's a pause. "The university sent over some tropical fish they rescued and wanted to monitor at the aquarium to clear up space or some shit. Anyway, the water temps were all wrong and the fish were sick and it was just a mess."

"So you got t'do science stuff?"

"Eh, I cleaned up dead fish and tanks."

"Oh."

She frowns and forces herself to lift her head. He's finished his pizza sandwich and is steadily finishing the pie off.

"Get papers graded?" He deflects.

"Some. Thanks for the beer."

"Yeah, sorry I was so late."

His thumb rolled in gentle circles around her ankle.

"You didn't have to wait up."

"Couch is comfortable." Annabeth's eyes closed.

Percy snorts. She hears him wipe his hands on his pants but is too tired to pry her eyes open and reprimand him.

"See this is why you should marry me. Comfy couch, free beer, you already wait up all night for me—"

Annabeth is too far gone to roll her eyes.

* * *

Her first dissertation is due at midnight; a portfolio of twelve designs, half of them detailed with construction plans and two with budgets. Annabeth has all but forgotten what the sun feels like, what sleep even is. Her hair defies gravity and her emergency scrunchie, the relic that she bought only as a last line of defense, is overstretched and dying.

"Where is it?" She sounds like the ghastly gremlin from those ungodly long movies Percy likes. "Where is it?"

 _Precious_ echoes in her mind and a laugh, hysterical and on the verge of mania, breaks from her lips. Books clutter the floor, their bindings rumpled and bending from the unceremonious toppling they suffered moments earlier from Annabeth's own hands as she tears through the office. Papers flutter uselessly in the air and Annabeth thinks she might throw her desk clean out the window if she can't _find it, dear God she just had it, have mercy, please, it was_ right there _it was_ ; a beautiful geometric structure with vinyl flooring and solar windows, one of the two budgeted designs, she has to find it, _she has to_ —

"Hey Wise Gi—oh wow. Looks like Hurricane Annabeth strikes again. Oh no, look at all the novel casualties."

Annabeth whirls, ready to throw the voice out the window in lieu of the now empty desk. It's Percy in the doorway, decked out in the obnoxious blue that is the aquarium uniform, and she loves the man, she does, but she's at her breaking point and very much stuck in a _it's you or me_ mentality; one of them is going out the window and it isn't going to be her.

Percy holds a pristine, freshly laminated stack of papers up. "You left this at the apartment. I think it might be part of your portfolio?"

The noise she makes isn't human but Percy doesn't so much as bat an eye as she tears it from his hands. It's the design she tore the office apart looking for. Annabeth takes a deep breath, her throat hiccupping; the breath catches in her throat and from the flash of horror that flickers across Percy's face she knows she looks ready to cry. She doesn't. She swallows the urge back.

"Right, yes," she clears her throat and then she's across the room, tucking the final design in with the rest of her portfolio and maybe her hands are trembling a little. She clenches her jaw, angling her head down so her golden curls fall around her face like a protective curtain.

"Hey, hey, ah geez," she barely hears Percy mutter.

"Relax Wise Girl," he coaxes and through the sheen of blonde hair, she sees him pick his way across the wreckage that is her office.

"I'm fine."

"Yeah, yeah I know." He's closer. He literally hops right _onto_ her desk, legs dangling off and a scold is on the tip of her tongue when he parts her hair with—is that a coffee?

She stares at him. He gives her one of his crooked grins.

"You're gonna kill it, Wise Girl. Don't sweat it."

"Get your butt off my desk."

He holds the coffee out to her and her lips might twitch a little as she reaches forward to take it.

"Deep breaths, you got this. Just drink some coffee—ah, ah, no talky just drinky." And the jerk actually reaches forward, pushing the coffee up to her mouth and has the gall to _tip it_.

She gulps down a swallow on instinct and thank god the logical half of her objects to the babying and is functioning because her hands come up on their own accord to smack the Seaweed Brain away and take the coffee. The coffee is piping hot and rich; this is no gas station coffee (she should know, she drinks enough of it) but the good stuff. Probably from the pretentious overpriced hipster joint on the corner. Annabeth closes her eyes, letting the steam waft up her face as the aroma settles inside her lungs.

When her eyes open, she feels a thousand times calmer. Her idiot of a best friend still has his butt on her desk and a crooked grin on his face.

"Better?" He asks.

She thinks about being sarcastic but all that comes out of her mouth is: "Much."

"Told ya you had it." Percy beams. "Now go kick some butt and make the professor cry with your awesome amazingness."

She snorts at his eloquence. Coffee held tightly in one hand, portfolio pressed against her still racing heart, Annabeth smiles.

"Thanks, Seaweed Brain."

"Not a problem." He hops off her desk, his heels coming down with a sickening crunch on one of the many books littering the ground. With the completed portfolio clutched against her heart, Annabeth couldn't bring herself to care. "Now when I ask you to marry me you'll have to say yes because you'll be in my debt."

"Yes, that's how it works," she snorts as they climb their way through the wreckage towards the door.

Percy sends a roguish grin her way, one foot out the door. "Annabeth darling I've loved you forever, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

"Perseus darling, I hope you realize that without a parking pass you _will_ get ticketed. You parked at a meter and not the staff lot right?"

"Shit. Love you, you'll do great, make people cry!"

Annabeth laughs so hard she almost spills the coffee as he tears down the hall, nearly bowling over a lost undergraduate wandering through the halls in his haste. _What an idiot,_ she thinks fondly.

* * *

"Your building would go up there."

"Yes, Percy."

Raising a hand to shield her eyes from the sun, Annabeth wonders if you could patent a tone of voice. This one would be _humoring your best friend the idiot because he's trying even though he's ridiculous._ A pair of sunglasses protect Percy's eyes and because he's a jerk he won't hand them over, despite her best pleas. A blanket is draped over Annabeth's arm and a cooler swings from Percy's side as they walk along the golden beach. It's twilight and the sun is starting to set over the cerulean waves of the ocean. Most of the beachgoers have gone, leaving the chill of the evening air and the dangers of twilight swimming behind for dinner and the comforts of home.

Perfect beach going time Percy always says, even though she knows he would rather be out in the waves.

"Oh, mine I saw it first!" He nonsensically exclaims, stopping suddenly to stoop over.

He appears a moment later upright and grinning, a rock in his hand.

"Yes, because I was this close to stealing your precious rock," she deadpans as he brushes sand off the oh so important rock.

"It's the perfect skipping rock!"

"This is California Percy, there are waves."

He ignores her, grabbing her hand and hauling her along the sand to the frothing shores.

"It's the bay there are only like a few baby waves."

"It's not going to skip."

"It'll totally skip you'll see."

She rolls her eyes but lets him pull her across the sand. She pulls her hand from his a few feet from the shore, yanking the cooler from his grasp before he gallivants off on her. She watches him enthusiastically step into the surf as she lays the blanket out. He winds his arm back and launches the rock sideways. Percy lets out a whooping cheer as it skips once across the surface—then a wave washes over the doomed rock and it's gone from sight.

"Aw come on!" He throws his hands in the air and she knows he's scowling. Sure enough when he turns around, his lips are turned down into a pathetic little pout, like a three year old stripped of his favorite toy.

"Told ya."

"It skipped once!"

"Sure, okay Percy."

He's still pouting when he plops down next to her on the blanket. Half an inch to the left and he'd practically be in her lap. Their knees knock against each other's, his shoulder almost painfully bumping against her.

"There, there," she says not at all sympathetically. He sticks his tongue out at her.

Sometimes she wonders if he's her best friend or the three-year-old she babysits.

"Seaweed Brain." Then, because she does love him and her mother didn't raise a heathen, "Thank you for packing dinner."

"I'm amazing, I know, I know, no need to thank me—did you say dinner?"

"Yes Percy," there was that tone again, she really should patent it. "That's what people call the meal after lunch."

"Oh, um, well about that."

He doesn't need to go any further because she's already opened the cooler.

"Honestly Percy what is this?" she exclaims.

He gives a weak smile. "Dinner?"

Annabeth starts pulling things out, listing them as they pile up on his lap where she throws them: "Gummy worms, all blue, Oreos, Doritos, Skittles, Pringles really Percy there isn't even enough potato in these to make them chips and you didn't even bring the good kind what is this pizza nonsense? Powdered donuts really, Percy, really?"

"For dessert?" he tries, bringing his knees up to his chest like a reprimanded child, all the sugary processed packaged nonsense he packed crinkling on his lap as he folded up.

"I swear you're actually three years old," she exclaims and she's finally reached the drinks. She pulls out—"A Capri Sun?"

"It's one hundred percent juice!"

"I'm one hundred percent gonna hurt you in a minute."

"There's water in there for you!" he practically squawks. "And like an apple because I know you like to be healthy and stuff and the Pringles you like are in there somewhere but I'll have you know that pizza is totally the best flavor."

He doesn't impress her; she has zero expectations when she pulls the next item out. It's the promised water and she sets it aside gratefully and yes there is indeed an apple down here and there, another box of Pringles.

"They were buy one get one free," he pipes up, like he's fiscally responsible or something for buying two tubes of not-potato processed junk instead of something reasonable like rice. But he bought it for her and it is—

"Barbeque," she reads and she can't help smiling because yes that is her favorite.

It's hardly the dinner of champions but she can't make the smile disappear as she leans into him. He pops open the top, shoves a stack of like four Pringles into his mouth at once and holds it out to her.

"Eat your own nasty Pringles," she laughs, trying to take the whole container from him. He holds it over their heads, out of her reach.

"I w'sd t'p 'n' 'rthin."

"Swallow then speak." Honestly, a three-year-old.

He does as bid. "I washed the apple and everything."

"Congratulations, you're a big boy, I'm so proud of you. Now give me the damn Pringles, Perseus!" She reached up but his arms are longer and he holds it triumphantly out of reach.

"Perseus!" She repeats. She's not above playing dirty if he doesn't knock it off.

"Alright, but by accepting these Barbeque Pringles you also accept my hand in marriage."

"The Pringles you got for free from the local discount store are the key to your heart?" she asks dryly as the container comes down from its suspension over their heads.

"Obviously, I thought it very symbolic."

"Seaweed Brain." She takes the Pringles.

* * *

"Hey Piper have you seen my shoes? You know the work professional flats, the cream ones, I have to be at the university in an hour and I can't—" Annabeth lets her sentence peter out, overturning a storage bin on the tiny apartment kitchen table. She'll clean it up before Hazel gets home. Or Hazel will clean it up when Hazel gets home and scold her for all of eternity until Annabeth makes it up by doing her calc homework.

"Piper! The professor and I are meeting with the Dean in an hour I need shoes, dammit, this is your area can I wear the grays or what?"

She pushes the odds and ends paraphernalia from the now overturned bin around the table. Old trinkets, a hairbrush, old Ed Sheeran tickets, her bachelor's diploma, useless stuff like that but no shoes.

"Relax, I threw them out."

" _Piper!"_ Annabeth isn't so much scandalized by the invasion of private property as she is annoyed at the disruption of her plans. Piper, a Ph.D. psychology student and operator of _Professional Chic_ fashion blog, did things like that. She isn't nearly as bad as her older sister, Silena the fashion designer who Annabeth had the misfortune of rooming with in undergrad. Her closet still hasn't recovered.

"They needed to go Chase." Piper isn't the least bit sympathetic as she strides into the kitchen, her beautiful head held proud and high, and a pair of lilac shoes dangling from her fingers. "Wear these. They're Hazel's but they're perfect. Thank God we're all the same size."

Annabeth doesn't question the fashion advice, Piper is never wrong, and takes the shoes. Piper eyes the slew of garbage now covering their table as Annabeth pulls them on. Annabeth jumps a mile, bashing her head against the wall and accidentally launching one of the shoes halfway across the room when Piper gives a shout.

"What is it, what's—?"

"Someone _proposed_ to you?"

"What, no."

"Then what's _this,_ Miss Annabeth Chase?" Piper dangles a crumpled piece of notebook paper before her nose, the edges roughly torn and coffee stain.

" _Annabeth – in case I never come back, know that I've always loved you and if I do come back do me the honor of becoming my wife. Love your doomed dearly beloved-_ oh my god, Annabeth what is this?"

Piper looks positively gleeful, her eyes bright. Annabeth mostly remembers now and sure enough, the nearly illegible scrawl is still that heinous.

"It's just Percy," she dismisses, a bit peeved Piper startled her so badly over something so silly. She rubs her head and goes to retrieve the thrown shoe.

"Percy?" She can practically hear the gears turning in Piper's head. "Your bestie?"

"I don't think he'd like to be called that but yes," Annabeth chuckles as she rescued the shoe from behind the toaster.

"Hey girls have you—why is there so much junk on the table, really now ladies?"

"Did you know Percy proposed to Annabeth?"

"About time, congratulations when?"

"Wait, what?" Annabeth frowns as she turns around, finding Hazel at the door wearing her scrubs and a blinding white smile.

"Like a while ago with this cryptic note, here come look!" Piper holds the note out and Hazel gravitates towards her like an asteroid the sun.

"He didn't, he wasn't serious, it was right before finals he was being overdramatic like always."

"Oh my god he asked you to marry him," Hazel gasps, eyes wide as she leans over Piper's shoulder.

"It's just a thing he does," Annabeth dismisses again, not understanding why they're making it such a big deal.

This brings the women out of their madness. They stop gawking at the note and start gawking at her instead.

"What do you mean 'it's just a thing he does'?" Piper repeats slowly.

"Exactly what I said." Annabeth's starting to get annoyed. She can't see what the big deal is. Percy spewed nonsense from the day he was born, it couldn't come as a surprise to anyone. "Anytime he can 'oh now you'll have to marry me', 'thank you Annabeth marry me', 'hey Annabeth it's a nice day out, marry me'?"

"And you keep saying no?" Hazel looks horrified.

"What do you mean I say no? I say 'shut up Percy you're ridiculous' because he is." Annabeth rolls her eyes as she shoves the second shoe on, done with this conversation.

"Oh girl," Piper clicks her tongue.

"Oh, what?" Annabeth snatches up her backpack with more force than necessary.

"For someone so smart, you can be so clueless sometimes," Hazel pitches in sympathetically. "We've seen the way he looks at you."

"Yeah, like I'm the best friend he has."

"Like you're the best _anything_ he has," Piper snorts, waving the old note in front of Annabeth's nose.

Annabeth swats her away, her brow furrowing. What her roommates are saying is ridiculous, nonsensical. Percy has always proposed to her. He never means anything by it, he just sort of does it. He couldn't . . . he isn't. . . surely he doesn't _actually_ want to marry her, they aren't _real_ proposals. Hazel steps forward to put a hand on Annabeth's shoulder when their door suddenly bursts open—"Hey, hey Annabeth, Annabeth? Annabeth."—and Percy barrels in.

All the women stare at him in shock, very much caught off guard by his explosive entrance. It doesn't help that he looks partially deranged. His aquarium uniform is on backwards, the collar puffed up around his neck ridiculously and his eyes are wild. There's also a box of some sort in his hands which, oh, now it's in Annabeth's hands as he shoves it against her.

"It's those crepe things you like they were on sale so I thought I'd hurry up and bring you some before work but ah, hi Hazel, hi Piper."

"These, my? Percy it'll take forty-five minutes to get to the aquarium from here."

"Yeah I'm gonna be super late, nice to see you, ladies," he reaches forward to grab Annabeth's head in his hands, angling it down so he can plant a loud, wet kiss on her forehead before hauling it back out the door. "Enjoy the crepes, love you, byyyeee—"

The bye echoes down the hall because the man shouting it is already gone by the end of the sentence, leaving their apartment door wide open and Annabeth in the doorway holding a box of crepes. She turns her head enough to stare at her roommates. Piper has her arms crossed, Hazel a hand over her mouth that can't hide her smile.

"I have to get to school," Annabeth says because that seems safer than facing her roommates and she's out the door a heartbeat later.

Her heart pounds against her ribcage as she slides behind the wheel. She sets the box of crepes aside and is about to start the car when she looks, really _looks_ at the damn thing. The corners are a little battered but the logo shining on the top is from her favorite little café downtown. He really had to go out of his way for them. The aroma wafting up is divine; she can't help reaching over and lifting the lid. Ten perfect little crepes stare up at her, half strawberry, the other half lemon. Because he really does remember everything.

The Dean is cordial and the professor gushes about her with enthusiasm; when the Dean shakes her hand goodbye his smile is genuine and he tells her he can't wait to see what she does next. Annabeth only wishes she could concentrate enough to appreciate it.

"You seem distracted," her professor notes as they head back to the office where the rest of the office is undoubtedly waiting with baited breath.

"I—" Annabeth is saved the trouble of coming up with a convincing lie as her cell buzzes. Relieved, she asks for a moment and checks it.

Media message, her phone warns her and the picture pops up on screen: it's Percy, his silly uniform still on backwards because the idiot either never noticed or was too lazy to fix it, flashing the camera a thumbs up. The words 'only stuck on janitor duty for a week' are at the bottom. Her lips twitch of their own accord. What an idiot. She knows he hates the way they treat him and it's no thumbs-up matter. Now he's stuck on janitor duties for a week all because of her crepes. The smile on his face is genuine though, so full of goofiness and unrepentant for his actions that her heart aches and for a moment she can't breathe.

"Problems with the boyfriend?" Her professor asks and Annabeth looks up.

"No, no he's not my boyfriend, he's my—"

She thinks about cold pizza on Saturday nights, about Barbeque Pringles and double coffee, crepes at her door, teases and smiles and _I love yous_ and suddenly everything clicks into place. She's the world's biggest idiot. Her best friend's in love with her. Her best friend's _in love with her._

"I have to go," she says and without any other explanation, she's running across campus. She doesn't stop at her apartment to change, just throws her carefully crafted portfolio in the back of her car and revs it up.

It's forty-five minutes to the aquarium and she doesn't stop, too afraid of talking herself off course to take her foot off the gas. She's still firmly on autopilot as she parks but she won't let her fears and doubts talk her out of this one. The stakes are too high. She has to pay to enter the aquarium and it's thirty dollars well spent when she recognizes the familiar green eyes near the Arctic exhibit.

"Seaweed Brain," she calls and her heart thunders so loud she's surprised he's not deafened.

Instead, he whirls around, an earbud falling out of his ear. "Wise Girl!" He's obviously surprised, his eyes lighting up like she's the most amazing thing in the world and God how did she never see that before?

"What are you doing here, aren't you supposed to be meeting the Dean today—" he cuts off sharply as Annabeth drops down to one knee before him. She knows she doesn't look her best. Her eyes are half crazy, her clothes are weirdly professional and her breath probably smells like crepes but she doesn't care.

"Perseus Jackson," she begins seriously, "I found an old note today, from when we were in undergrad and you asked me to marry you, maybe for the first time maybe the hundredth. I thought you were joking, just being that goofy kid that loved to make me smile. Today I think I realized you weren't just fooling around."

Percy's eyes look panicky and she's more than a little afraid he might run so she reaches forward and steals both of his hands in hers, holding him there.

"You're always there for me, you always have my back and know how to make me smile. Your humor is awful but I love it. Your lifestyle choices are questionable but they keep me on my toes and I love it. Some days I think I know you better than I know myself; you love the ocean and the waves and hate this stupid job because you know you can do more. You want to do more, to help people and animals and make things good in the world and I love that. I know when your smiles are real and fake and just a little too self-deprecating and I know how to fix those, but only if you let me. You like the chocolate crepes but never get them because they're too expensive but you'll buy me a whole box and be late to work and I love it. You are my pizza Pringles and I think I'm your Barbeque," Annabeth laughs and dammit she's crying now but she's also laughing; she feels so free, like a weight has been lifted from her shoulders.

"We always say I love you but it took that note for me to realize just what those three words meant to me, to us. So I guess I've been the Seaweed Brain all these years but that's okay because they've been the best years of my life. What I'm trying to say—to ask—is, I love you. Perseus Jackson, will you marry me?"

Percy gapes down at her, his mouth comically falling open and all bug-eyed. His mouth opens and closes, then opens and closes again. He hasn't bolted yet at least. Annabeth's heart hammers in her chest as the silence stretches on and her confidence begins to wane. What if her roommates were wrong? What if _Annabeth_ was wrong? And if she isn't, they weren't even dating for goodness's sake and she just up and asks him to marry me, oh god, this is a disaster what was she thinking—

"Oh my god," he finally gasps out. "Oh my god, yes, but I totally asked you first, but yes, yes."

"And you totally sucked at it, I thought you were joking!" Annabeth is so relieved the words come out a sob and Percy's yanking her to her feet and pulling her close; her fingers tangle in his hair, his arm sliding around her waist and she can't for the life of her understand why they never did this before.

He bends his head down and suddenly his mouth is on hers and she swears fireworks ignite.

"You've been the Seaweed Brain all along?" he breaths into her mouth between kisses.

"Idiot," she scoffs as she laughs and cries. "What kind of idiot proposes to someone for years and never makes it clear he means it?"

"I meant it." Kiss. "I meant every," kiss, "single," kiss "one."

"I know," _now,_ she thinks but maybe, maybe some part of her knew all along. "Seaweed Brain."

He grins against her. "Mrs. Seaweed Brain."

She likes the sound of that.

* * *

 **A/n During finals week last semester my friend bought me coffee and I asked them to marry me. Not actually an uncommon occurrence but it got me thinking and this was born. Tried out present tense for this fic! I'm still not sure how I feel about it but at least I can say I wrote a fic in present tense so yay. Shoutout to rhig122 for both cheerleading and betaing!**

 **Let me know what you thought and I hope you enjoyed ~ ***


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